The other three nodded. No arguing this time.
They walked to the counter together, pretending not to feel the eyes on their backs. The menu floated above the counter as a projection of glowing runes and moving images. Bowls of steaming soup... Skewers of meat… Layers of pastry and burgers… There are many options to choose from.
Lyra couldn't help but point upwards. "Look…" she spoke aloud in honest awe. "It's moving. And those battle puppets look so human..."
Before any of the boys could reply, a sharp sneer cut in from behind them.
"Looks like we've got one of those country bumpkins from backward clans in here."
The words were loud. Deliberate. Meant to be heard.
The four stiffened.
Rian turned around slowly. His eyes locked onto the group at the table. "Which clan are you lot from?" he asked, his tone no longer playful.
The word "lot" drew a few frowns from the seated group. One of them—a broad-shouldered boy with pale hair tied at the back—leaned forward and spoke calmly.
